Oh, it had its points: there was a skit in which Medary Cole (grist mill & feed store) and Louis Rotenstern (custom tailoring—pressing & cleaning) announced that they were those historic Vermonters, Brigham Young and Joseph Smith, and with their jokes about imaginary plural wives they got in ever so many funny digs at the ladies present. All of America was serious now, after the seven years of depression since 1929.It was just long enough after the Great War of 1914-18 for the young people who had been born in 1917 to be ready to go to college... (ret.), who dealt angrily with the topic "Peace through Defense—Millions for Arms but Not One Cent for Tribute," and of Mrs.And, though herself unfortunately childless, she was esteemed as a lecturer and writer about Child Culture, and she was the author of a volume of nursery lyrics, including the immortal couplet: All of the Roundies are resting in rows, With roundy-roundies around their toes. It is composed of females who spend one half their waking hours boasting of being descended from the seditious American colonists of 1776, and the other and more ardent half in attacking all contemporaries who believe in precisely the principles for which those ancestors struggled. But on a public platform her voice became brassy, her eyes filled with embarrassing fury. She was constantly poking into things that were none of her business, and at town meetings she criticized every substantial interest in the whole county: the electric company's rates, the salaries of the schoolteachers, the Ministerial Association's high-minded censorship of books for the public library.But always, 1917 or 1936, she was a raging member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Now, at this moment when everything should have been all Service and Sunshine, Mrs. " Then the good old war horse, Gimmitch, veteran of a hundred campaigns against subversive Reds, trained to ridicule out of existence the cant of Socialist hecklers and turn the laugh against them, swung into gallant action: "My dear good woman, if a gal, as you call it, has any real charm and womanliness, she won't have to 'hook' a man—she'll find 'em lined up ten deep on her doorstep! She tore into it: "I tell you, my friends, the trouble with this whole country is that so many are SELFISH! Thinking only of how much wages they can extort out of their unfortunate employer, with all the responsibilities he has to bear! Peace is a great dream, but maybe sometimes it's only a pipe dream!Our highest ambition is to be darned well let alone!Our only gen-uine relationship to Europe is in our arduous task of having to try and educate the crass and ignorant masses that Europe has wished onto us up to something like a semblance of American culture and good manners.On the wall was a banner lettered "Service Before Self," and the menu—the celery, cream of tomato soup, broiled haddock, chicken croquettes, peas, and tutti-frutti ice-cream—was up to the highest standards of the Hotel Wessex. General Edgeways was completing his manly yet mystical rhapsody on nationalism: "...for these U-nited States, a-lone among the great powers, have no desire for foreign conquest.
" Dramatically she sat down, and the sound of clapping filled the room like a cloud of downy feathers. A state in which college professors, newspapermen, and notorious authors are secretly promulgating these same seditious attacks on the grand old Constitution!
A state in which, as a result of being fed with these mental drugs, the People are flabby, cowardly, grasping, and lacking in the fierce pride of the warrior!
No, such a state is far worse than war at its most monstrous!
But, as I explained to you, we must be prepared to defend our shores against all the alien gangs of international racketeers that call themselves 'governments,' and that with such feverish envy are always eyeing our inexhaustible mines, our towering forests, our titanic and luxurious cities, our fair and far-flung fields.
"For the first time in all history, a great nation must go on arming itself more and more, not for conquest—not for jealousy— not for war—but for peace! "Professor" Emil Staubmeyer, the superintendent of schools, popped up to scream, "Three cheers for the General—hip, hip, hooray!